


Journey's Pause

by casual_distance



Series: 30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Clowns, Creature Castiel, Creature Dean, Dreams and Nightmares, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 07:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4171572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casual_distance/pseuds/casual_distance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the grey mists between sleeping and waking, the King of Dreams finds himself longing, hoping for a meeting of chance...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Journey's Pause

When the King of Dreams steps into the Dreamer’s mind, he finds himself in a dark warehouse that stretches endlessly in every direction. Shadows hang low, obscuring the ceiling from view, hinting at corners hidden in the distance. As he walks, the ground crunches beneath his feet. He looks down to see rocks, mud, and, confusingly, glitter which sparkles weakly in the dim moonlight that creeps through broken windows.

The King of Dreams frowns, but his attention is drawn away by a gasping scream and the heavy pounding of footsteps. A large man runs toward him, past him, away from him. Mocking laughter, high pitched and jagged, echoes after the man, but it is only laughter; no creature follows. 

The man gives a cry. The King of Dreams turns to find the Dreamer pressed back against the warehouse wall, hands raised in front of him. He moans in fear. A tall, slender figure approaches him slowly. Its clothes are oversized, striped pants hanging loose, spotted bow tie flopping downwards. Its bright orange hair curls out in large spikes from its head. Its wide, painted mouth is open, the mocking laughter echoing again. It raises one hand above its head; a knife glints in the moonlight. 

The King of Dreams squints at this nightmare creature for a moment before shrugging. He raises a hand and a door appears beside the Dreamer where he’s crouched down. The man gasps and lunges for it. He jerks it open and dives through it to find himself in a field of wild flowers, the afternoon sun shining overhead, a cool breeze catching his hair. The man inhales, head tipped back, and smiles as a dog barks once, twice and then bounds toward him. He squats down and catches the dog in his arms, laughing and falling backward as it licks his face, yipping excitedly.

The King of Dreams smiles kindly.

“Nice rescue, Cas.”

The King of Dreams startles and turns to find the King of Nightmares standing behind him, arms folded over his chest. His hair gleams with golden highlights in the dream’s sunlight, face glowing warmly. His white dress shirt reflects light back at the King of Dreams, an emphasis on his preternatural charm. He smiles at the King of Dreams, the skin around his green eyes crinkling.

“Dean,” the King of Dreams rumbles in greeting. 

The King of Nightmares’ smile gentles for just a moment before he turns his attention back to the Dreamer. “This one would be easy to turn though. You’re losing your touch, buddy.”

The King of Dreams steps closer. His dark hair, dark clothes, and tanned skin are a stark contrast to the pale, bright beauty of the King of Nightmares. 

“This one wakes soon,” the King of Dreams says, looking up at his counterpart. “Perhaps we could let him sleep in peace.”

The King of Nightmares slides his hands into the pockets of his pants and leans forward slightly. “I dunno, man. I promised I wouldn’t take it easy on you.”

“You wouldn’t be taking it easy on me,” the King of Dreams argues. “You’d be taking it easy on him.” He smiles, reaches out to rest a hand on the King of Nightmares’ arm. “We could call it a draw.”

The King of Nightmares raises an eyebrow. “I’ve got a vested interest in winning. Don’t see how calling it a draw would be worthwhile for me.”

The King of Dreams looks away, out over the field, which is slowly fading as the Dreamer drifts toward wakefulness. 

“That was a peculiar nightmare you gave the Dreamer,” he says instead.

The King of Nightmares hums thoughtfully. “He’s afraid of clowns. He had a job in a warehouse similar recently and had thoughts of such a thing happening.” He laughs. “You’d be surprised how often clowns are in nightmares.”

“I suppose you’re right. I don’t believe I’ve ever given anyone dreams of a clown,” the King of Dreams muses. 

The dog has disappeared and the Dreamer is laid out in the grass on his side, arms folded under his head, legs curled upwards. The Kings watch, knowing the Dreamer is more awake than asleep, as the dream fades away from around them, leaving them surrounded by swirling grey mists. They stand together for a moment, looking at each other. In this place, the space Dreamers occupy as they drift between wakefulness and sleep, their differences are not so stark.

The King of Nightmares sighs, the sound small, slight, nothing more than an exhale of air. He steps forward and takes the King of Dreams’ hand.

“You never said why we should call this a draw.”

“Letting the Dreamer wake in peace should be reason enough.”

The King of Nightmares laughs. “Peace is not my vocation, Cas.” He tugs on the King’s hand, pulling him a step closer. The mists swirl around their legs. The Kings can already feel the calling of their work, but these moments, taken so far apart, are precious to them.

The King of Nightmares sighs again, tugs once more, pulling the King of Dreams against his chest, sliding his hand across the King of Dreams’ back. “Come on, Cas,” he murmurs, ducking his head down. The King of Dreams is lost then. The longing that is beneath everything he does causes him to surge up to meet the King of Nightmares in a kiss that was supposed to be gentle, but ends with hands on each other’s bodies, fisted in hair, pressing each other close.

It’s over too soon as the pull of their Dreamers lures them away from each other. The King of Dreams glances over his shoulder as he walks into the mists and sees the King of Nightmares do the same. 

Their eyes catch and hold until the mists obscure them from each other’s sight.

**Author's Note:**

> Sam is the Dreamer. :) He and Dean are not related in this story. [On tumblr](http://casualstories.tumblr.com/post/122008509758/journeys-pause)


End file.
